Intrigue
by hahalolsmileyface
Summary: Tom Riddle was the epitome of control. He controlled his emotions, he controlled his people, he could control those who were not his people... so it was very well that he'd use it to his advantage to further his dark ambitions of power. What didn't fit into his perfectly well formed plans were the oddities of one Hermione Granger and the intrigue she unwillingly incited HIATUS
1. Prologue

A/N: Before I start I just wanted to say that I really don't have much experience with writing anything outside of Naruto... Lol and I've only read up to the fourth book (still making my way through the series), but I do read Harry Potter fanfiction and I adore this pairing so very very much. The only thing is... I don't know if details would be as accurate as it should be and I wouldn't want it to ruin the fun of reading my very first fanfic of this fandom and pairing.

Also, I don't mean to sound... well, haughty. Lol, but I felt like no one really grasped the character of the people they wrote about. I'm reading through the series and sometimes when I go back to reading fanfiction, it bothers me because writers input things that the character probably wouldn't do. That's probably just me. If it were its own character I'd have no complaints about any of the stories here but my only issue is that it's hard to find any stories that truly capture the mystery that Tom Riddle is.

So I decided to try it myself. Critiques are always welcome :) First chapter (prologue) will be really short. I just want to try a small sample and see how well you would receive a glimpse of his character. Later chapters, I pray, will be much longer. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Prologue

Tom Marvolo Riddle always considered himself an extremely likable fellow.

He'd made the outstanding achievement of being Head Boy, his marks were top notch, and all who looked to him would say that he was helpful, handsome, and an all around wonderful boy. And despite the one oddball of a teacher who saw past this facade much more easily than he was comfortable with, he had worked very hard to weave this image of perfection to life.

Because who could deny the longing to be in the presence of something such as perfection; who could possibly deny that it was much easier to take things at face value - to believe that he was this example of faultlessness - than to acknowledge the threat he could pose if anybody realized that he was not all he seemed.

Despite the praises of both teachers and students alike, however, he made sure to remind himself everyday of one very simple thing.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was not perfect.

He was manipulative.

He was observant.

He was patient and cunning and ambitious.

He was not, however, delusional to think he was without fault.

Tom expertly hid a grimace as he walked down the halls of Hogwarts, flashing a dashing smile to a passing teacher who nodded approvingly in return.

He had flaws, like any human. Which was exactly why he'd use his ambition to become something that wasn't. He'd be all powerful one day, the most powerful sorcerer in the world. So much so that his name would be known throughout the wizarding world yet the fear of his person would restrict all from speaking it.

Not the name Tom. Not the name he inherited from his filthy muggle father. No... the name Tom Marvolo Riddle was unworthy.

He'd emerge, instead, as someone new. As Lord Voldemort. And nobody would stop him.

Who would when all they saw was a simpering puppy that played the expectations they had of him to a tee?

He entered his Transfiguration class with plenty of time to spare, perfectly aware of the fleeting, _careful_ gaze of the annoyingly perceptive Professor Dumbledore. As he sat at his desk and waited, he entertained himself with simple thoughts of the future and the hopes he threw into it. He couldn't possibly fail. It was impossible to fathom. He was too careful, he was too deliberate. He glanced at Dumbledore and flashed him a perfectly dazzling smile when he caught his eye. The professor gave a small nod in return before returning to surveying the influx of students that were steadily streaming in.

For a moment, Tom let his smile drop. He refused to fail in his ambitions. Especially not because of the suspicions of an old coot who simply refused to fall for his charming facade.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger never once in her life thought that she'd be sitting on a stool, pleading in the safety of her mind with the sorting hat to be placed into the last house she ever thought she'd want to be in.

Eyes shut tight, she repeated it over and over again as if saying it more than once would grant her the request vital to what she'd come here to do.

 _"Please put me in Slytherin."_

 _"Please put me in Slytherin."_

 _"Please, oh please, put me in Slytherin."_

The sorting hat gave a sort of purr in her ear, making it obvious that he was quite amused with the chant she clung to with her life.

 _Granger, a Granger, a muggle-born Gryffindor Granger, and she requests, despite the courage in her heart, to be sorted into the house where witches and wizards alike are given the ultimate opportunity to do great things._

 _"Please put me in Slytherin._ "

 _Are you planning on doing great things?_ The hat asked intrestedly.

She didn't answer, knowing full well that it didn't matter. The answers it sought would be found in the head it rifled through.

 _I don't make mistakes, Hermione Granger._

" _This won't be_."

 _I was simply stating fact. Best be Gryffindor._

 _"No!_ " Hermione felt her heart lurch in alarm. Everything - her plan - rested solely on the foundation that she be sorted into Slytherin. To be close with, to get close to-

 _But you don't want that. A house most suited to you and a house you are already sorted in._ The hat gave an amused chuckle in her ear and Hermione stamped out the growing spark of irritation that rumbled as the ugly thing teased her. _Very well. Best be Gryffindor, however, better be- "_ SLYTHERIN!"

Hermione didn't dare to breathe, glancing towards Headmaster Dippet as the hat was lifted from her head. She didn't dare to believe it. Her knuckles were white from clutching the edges of the stool she sat upon and she was only able to exhale a sigh of relief when the Headmaster gave a delighted chortle, waving forward a fairly stout and jolly man whom she immediately recognized as Horace Slughorn.

"Horace! Your newest addition," Dippet gestured to her and her eyes flickered to the other three heads of houses. Dumbledore's eyes sparkled as it usually did and his youthful appearance did nothing to hide the wisdom that hid behind the well trimmed beard. She longed to be comforted, she longed to have reassurances but she knew it would do no good and so she returned her gaze to the lumbering man who swelled with pride as he observed the very plain, the very unremarkable Hermione Granger.

"Oh how very wondrous Ms. Granger, what a surprise, what a pleasantly wondrous surprise indeed," he huffed as he ushered the girl to her feet. "Headmaster, we'll be on our way then," to which Dippet only nodded, already gesturing the others to leave, "and as you may have very well known, very well guessed, I am your Head of House." Hermione tried to hide the smile that threatened to reveal itself at the way he seemed to preen. "As you are new here, you must not be very familiar with the four houses much-"

"Actually, sir," Hermione interrupted as they stepped out of the Headmaster's room. "I read about them, about all of it, in _Hogwarts, A History_." She offered a smile as they stepped onto the stone stairway, eventually leading themselves out into the hallway of the Headmaster's Tower.

"As expected," Professor Slughorn hummed in approval. "You will do very well fitting in with your fellow seventh year Slytherins. I dare say you might even get along with the Head Boy - part of my house, he is."

Hermione nodded politely, aware that they were on their way to the Great Hall and from the looks of things outside, she guessed that The Great Feast had just barely begun. Seeing as she had the Sorting Hat just moments ago placed atop her mop of brown curls, she assumed that the Sorting had already finished and the other kids were most likely making their way through their second helpings.

She tuned Slughorn out easily as the smallest trace of a wistful smile appeared on her lips. Ron and Harry would be bickering right about now, moaning about the coming homework whilst enjoying their third serving of heaping mashed potatos, buttered corn on the cob, and perfectly seasoned chicken. She missed them. It had hardly been a day and upon remembering the simplest dinner she'd had with her friends, she was already hit with a massive pang of nostalgia.

Hermione was brought out of her thoughts as the looming double doors to the Great Hall opened and she was met with a fair amount of curious stares from the four long tables at which each house claimed as their own.

There was a brief pause in conversation before it resumed as Hermione was led by her new Head of House to the table closest to the entrance - a table she identified as Slytherin. Slughorn lumbered past walking students and stopped at a spot where a group of boys had been enjoying their meal. When they noticed their Professor, all bouts of conversation ceased between them and one rose to stand, a charming smile on his face. Even before Slughorn proceeded with the introductions, she knew exactly who he was.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Jr.

Even if she hadn't been shown what he looked like prior to her arrival, it was obvious from the way that he influenced a certain command of respect. His shoulders were proud, his figure (though slim) was straight, and the boys who stayed seated did not hide the look of admiration in their eyes.

"Professor," Tom greeted.

"Tom, m'boy," Slughorn grinned and placed a strong hand on his shoulder. "As Head Boy, I wanted you to oversee the fluid integration of the newest member of our House, Ms. Hermione Granger."

Although it was quick, barely there, he'd given her a once-over and she imagined within the span of half a second he'd already calculated her use and danger. His smile was warm as he greeted her charmingly. "Ms. Granger. As Professor Slughorn said, I'm the Head Boy of Hogwarts. I'd be perfectly happy to make myself available to you so that Hogwarts will be as much your home as it has become mine."

Hermione hesitated, recalling the words that were keenly echoing about her head as she recalled the meeting that had gotten her here.

 _Observe._

 _Just observe._

 _Observe for now._

 _Hermione Granger couldn't help the the amusement that filtered through her as she muttered 'lemon drop'. The gargoyle, reacting to its assigned password, gave a low rumble before rising, bringing with it a circular staircase that led straight up to the Headmaster's office._

 _She knocked on the door firmly three times before going in, feeling right at home with the odd whirrings and tiny puffs of smoke that came from the various little baubles that decorated his office. Behind the enormous claw footed desk, sat just the man who'd summoned her and in front of him, taking up two chairs were her best friends, Harry and Ron._

 _It was a surprise; she hadn't expected them to be here too. She took the middle seat - the only seat that remained empty - and stared up into the gleaming eyes of Dumbledore. "Ms. Granger," he greeted cordially, offering her a bowl of what looked to be his favorite muggle candy. "Lemon drop?"_

 _Hermione smiled but declined._

 _"I find that no matter what kind of sweets I sample from any place around the world, I always seem to come back to these wonderfully muggle-made lemon drops." Dumbledore unwrapped one himself and popped it into his mouth._

 _Harry shifted uncomfortably to her right. "Um, sir. I don't mean to be rude but why did you call the three of us here? We're barely starting sixth year and with Voldemo-"_

 _"Ah, Harry, Ron." The Headmaster slowly sat in his own chair and a look of deep thought overcame his features. "I've called you here simply for the fact that I strongly felt your presence here was required."_

 _The three students exchanged confused looks._

 _"Ms. Granger," he started tiredly. "You recall third year yes? The incident with a certain Mr. Black?"_

 _Harry stiffened at the mention of his godfather, still quite bothered by the death of the closest person he had to a father figure. Hermione frowned and looked nervously at Ron. "The time-turner?"_

 _Ron scrunched his face up, looking as if he were told to name all the moons of Jupiter within the span of a minute. "What the bloody hell is a time-turner? If you're talking about the time when I got a right chewing on my leg, I_ do _remember." He rubbed his knee absentmindedly. "Still have the scars to show for it, actually."_

 _Harry hesitantly summed up the events of the Time-Turner incident for Ron, remembering with a kind of pained amusement that Ron had been too injured - and comatose - to participate in the adventures of a three-hour-prior-time-travel._

 _"I missed it? I missed the chance to replay a front row seating of your punch to Malfoy?" Ron finally whispered in disbelief and Hermione shook her head in exasperation._

 _"Ron, that's not the_ point _." Then, as if she remembered that they had yet to be given a reason as to why they were summoned, she turned to Dumbledore and asked, "Sir what_ is _the point?"_

 _Dumbledore smiled grimly. "I have a... request, Hermione."_

 _Taken aback, the three of them fell silent._

 _Sighing, Dumbledore continued, "I normally wouldn't be so blunt and what I'm about to ask you is dangerous-"_

 _"Dangerous?" Harry asked, alarmed._

 _"What do you mean dangerous?" Ron yelped at the same time._

 _Hermione blinked. "What does this have to do with the time-turner, sir?"_

 _Dumbledore reached into a drawer and pulled out a long golden chain from which dangled a beautiful miniature hourglass. She noted that it was different than the one McGonagall had given her. "I understand if you'll refuse. I'm hesitant, even now, to ask, however," he paused and frowned. "It must be done. Hermione, I ask that you use this time-turner to return to the year 1944, where - and when - you'll be posing as a seventh year to observe the actions of Tom Marvolo Riddle."_

 _Harry and Ron immediately stood in outrage. "Professor-"_

 _"Are you mad-"_

 _"-1944 is-"_

 _"-time travel so far-"_

 _"-dangerous-"_

 _"-unheard of-"_

 _Hermione spoke up, "But I'm not a seventh year, professor."_

 _Dumbledore merely smiled. "You have the necessary knowledge and practical experience, do you not?"_

 _"You can't possibly be thinking of accepting, Hermione."_

 _Ron nodded fervently at Harry's serious tone. "It's dangerou-"_

 _"It is," Hermione said evenly, but she replayed what the Headmaster had just asked and was in quite a bit of a shock. She would have never believed that Dumbledore would ask her to meddle with time. "Professor McGonagall told me herself, I've read it in countless books that mentioned time travel, I've done research on it. Professor, no witch or wizard who's meddled seriously with time has ever gotten away with the consequences. Of all people, I would think that you-"_

 _Dumbledore nodded sagely. "You do not have to force yourself. I will respect your decision, whatever they may be."_

 _Ron seemed unable to conjure anything else other than 'it's dangerous' but Harry stared her down and gripped her arm. "Hermione. You_ know _what happens when you mess with the timeline. Remember? You had to hold me back from messing it all up in third year. You said there were_ consequences _and I refuse to put you in that sort of danger. We need you."_

 _"Voldemort, yes I know." Hermione shook her head. "If I do accept, what is the purpose of this visit?" she asked Dumbledore. "It can't be to save Riddle or alter the timeline. I can't imagine you'd ask that of me Professor and if I were going there to pose as a seventh year, I can only assume Riddle will be one as well. He'd have made at least two horcruxes by then."_

 _"Just observe, Ms. Granger. Tom is dangerous because of how harmless he seems. I am not asking you to stop him. I'm not so foolish. However, if you do decide to take this burden on yourself, I ask that you keep as normal a facade as possible. Convince everybody that you're normal and do not stand out. I only ask that you observe Ms. Granger."_

 _"Will I be expecting the help of your past self?" Hermione asked curiously._

 _Dumbledore gave a sharp shake of his head. "The less who know the better. You know just as well as I do how dangerous time travel is. No matter what happens, it is pertinent that you keep this information to yourself."_

 _Ron grasped her hand, "Hermione! You heard Harry, we need you, please, I-" he closed his mouth, opened it, then closed it again before running a hand through his hair. "'Mione, I've never been good with words but you're one of my best friends. I care about you, please." He turned to Dumbleore, then. "Please, professor. You can't really ask a student to do this. You'd never harm her on purpose."_

 _The Headmaster just closed his eyes and took off his half moon spectacles. "I will respect Hermione's decision, Mr. Weasley."_

 _Hermione fell silent as she bore the weight of three pairs of eyes. "I'd like to think about it, sir."_

 _She felt weak, barely seeing the nod that Dumbledore gave her before excusing herself. She was followed out by both Ron and Harry who immediately bombarded her with begs and pleas; they wanted desperately for her to use her logic like she always did with them and stay._

Hermione ended up accepting the weighty task that the future Headmaster trusted her with. She knew Dumbledore never did things without a reason and if he had to put her in such danger as time traveling, then it must've been a very good reason indeed. The only thing that had bothered her was the look of pity that had flashed across his eyes as she turned the knob of the hourglass exactly five clicks.

She'd had to destroy the time-turner within five minutes of stumbling out of a broom closet or else she would've been sent back to her proper time and despite her willingness to perform this duty, she'd immediately felt loneliness clench her heart as she realized she was stuck in this era with nobody to rely on except her and her own judgement.

Tom cleared his throat. "Ms. Granger, are you alright?"

Hermione blinked. Apparently, she'd gone too long without answering and now everybody was looking at her with varying looks of confusion, amusement, and slight concern. "Yes, I'm fine," she replied softly and then louder, "That's alright, actually. I'm familiar with what I need to know. I've read my books."

Slughorn looked extremely put out and shook his head almost immediately. "No, no, no Ms. Granger that won't do at all. Tom, do show her around the castle and make sure she's fairly settled in. I'm sure she will be a wonderful addition to our family," he grinned and before she could protest, Tom piped in a polite 'Will do, sir' before the Professor made his way to the professor's long table.

"Call me Tom."

Hermione glanced at the hand he held out to her and she placed her hand in his, quickly taking it back as soon as she'd done the smallest of shakes. She was surprised his hand was warm, as silly as it was to think it. It meant that he was human. At least mostly. And it bothered her that he was just as warm blooded as she was.

It made him easier to blend in.

It made it harder for her to reconcile the red-eyed monster with this polite and pleasantly agreeable model student.

It made him seem... normal.

Even when she knew for a fact that he was anything but.

The gleam of the ring on his finger caught her attention as he gestured for her to sit and she did, eyeing the golden piece with an intense focus.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

She was startled out of her thoughts as he held it up. Embarrassed to have been caught so easily, she blushed but nodded.

Tom started to twist it around his finger. "It's a family heirloom. Eat," he motioned towards the heaping plates of food still left. "You must be hungry." He then made to introduce the people that surrounded him from left to right. "That's Malfoy, Avery, Lestrange, Mulciber, Nott, Dolohov."

They each gave a stiff nod, their eyes darting to Tom as if unsure of what to do next.

"Pureblood families," Hermione noted, already aware that this was most likely the inner circle of the young Dark Lord. "I'm not familiar with Riddle, however."

She barely caught the slightest tensing of his back before he turned to her with a considering look. "I'm not familiar with Granger, either. Am I to assume you're muggle born?"

At this, Hermione knew she had to choose her words very carefully, knowing that though they may not look it, each ear was tuned keenly to her next response. "I never knew my family. I grew up in an orphanage." The lie rolled easily off her tongue but she was just as surprised as Tom had seemed when she mentioned growing up in an orphanage. It was the only thing she had to grab onto as she rifled through the quick list of excuses her brain supplied her with.

Tom did a quick survey of her again and she kept from grimacing as she realized he was reorganizing his assessments of her.

"Interesting," he finally settled on and Hermione turned away from him.

"I can escort myself, Tom," she said, hoping he would indeed take the out she offered him but he waved her suggestion aside.

"I'd love to show you around. What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn't? I'll make time for the schedule you have and whatever questions you have I will be more than happy to answer." Tom gave a warm and reassuring smile.

It was perfect. His answer, his wording, down to the very small dimple at the corner of his mouth. _He_ was perfect and she wasn't at all surprised that nobody thought to connect this role model of a student to the mess of a Dark Lord that would emerge years from now.

Her eyes flickered once again to Dumbledore and she found him staring in their general direction. She wanted more than anything to have somebody on her side, somebody to go to should her judgement lead to fatal mistakes, an authority figure who could direct her on what to do. But she didn't have that.

She was alone, and for now, her thoughts on how to handle things would have to be enough. Hermione genuinely did not want to spend any more time with Tom Riddle than she had to, but seeing as how both he and Professor Slughorn insist that she spend time with the Head Boy, she turned away from the curious eyes of the Transfiguration professor and answered, "I'd be delighted, Tom. Thank you."

She hadn't touched her plate that night.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

His first impression of her had been... well, _unimpressive_.

Wild hair, brown eyes, and a rather plain appearance overall. She seemed more of a frightened little mouse and though he could admit that her head was nearly as good as his own - _nearly,_ because it wasn't possible for someone as unimpressive as her to have a head _as good_ as his - there was something odd about her that prevented him from writing her off as another face in the throng of students he manipulated.

This Hermione girl was a tad bit too jumpy where he was concerned. Excluding Dumbledore, not one person in this school (or out) found any fault or reason not to be around him yet, he observed that she absolutely loathed his presence. He would touch the small of her back to guide her to classes, he'd offer a hand to help her, he carried some of her books, smiled and charmed and did all the things that should've made a girl's heart beat fast but all it did was earn him a look of absolute fear and revulsion.

Granted, it was only for a second before she masked it poorly with a shaky smile but it was a familiar look he'd seen amongst his own followers.

It begged the question though; why?

 _Why_ was she afraid? What had he done? The only reason Dumbledore was so hard to fool in the first place was for the simple fact that he'd seen what he was capable of prior to his arrival at Hogwarts. If it weren't for that he was confident that the professor would be just as enamored as the rest of the school however, this Granger girl...

Tom stared and stared and stared at said girl who sat on the other end of the potions classroom. From time to time, she flashed nervous glances his way and he smiled every time he caught her eye but she'd immediately avert her own. He was then left to frown and stare even harder at the infuriating wench.

He supposed it was unnerving. The severity with which he was boring a hole into her was probably frightening if he had to admit it himself but she was an anomaly. And if there was anything that Tom Riddle hated more than weakness, was an anomaly.

* * *

She wished he would stop staring.

Hermione looked up once more only to be met with piercing black hues. His gloomy expression morphed into a pleasant smile but it did nothing to warm her. In fact, it did the opposite, sending chills up and down her spine.

She looked away and tried to listen to Slughorn - since the opportunity to learn never passed her by - but she could only feel the disturbing gaze of a monster on her.

When they were finally dismissed for class, she hastily departed the classroom, seeking to find solace in the library before Tom could catch up with her. After all, it had already been three weeks. She knew where her classes were, she hardly needed help with her classwork, and she'd already made friends (as close of a friend as she could call them) so it was very plausible that he'd leave her alone now right?

Three weeks was long enough.

Hermione chanced a glance behind her and nearly breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't see him chasing after her-

"Hermione."

\- only to yelp in alarm when he appeared in front of her.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry? Are you that hungry for dinner?" Tom teased.

Hermione was a terrible actress. She could admit this freely. So in the security of her own heart, she wondered with resentment, why Dumbledore had sent her to succeed in this vaguely enormous task. How could she possibly hope to? And even considering what she'd been told to do, it hadn't been much to direct her. Observe... and then what? Do what? What did Dumbledore have in mind in sending her to 1944 only to tell her to watch Tom Riddle sink further into darkness?

Clearing her throat, she replied, "I've made a few friends in Ravenclaw. I've told them I'd meet them at their table."

"Ah," he nodded. "I'm glad you're finding your way around. But will you really wound me like this? Aren't we friends as well?"

"Well, yes I-"

"Great! You'll sit with me," he smiled and started walking away, clearly expecting her to follow him.

Hermione was taken aback though she knew she had no choice. She had a feeling it had been more of a command than a suggestion and for a moment, she found that it irked her more than she thought it would to be bossed around by someone like him. Then, it was overwhelmed by misery and fear as she always was whenever she was anywhere near Tom. Why he went to such lengths to befriend her when it was quite clear in her opinion that she held no power nor pureblood status was beyond her.

 _Maybe he wants to be sure he's doing a perfect job well done. Anything less would be beneath him._

It didn't take long before she found herself seated in the Great Hall with the same prickly people she'd been sitting with for the past three weeks.

"Granger."

Hermione turned and plastered an exaggerated grin on her face. "Oh hello Abraxus. How were classes today?"

It was clear from his barely concealed disdain that the use of his first name without permission infuriated him but since he reminded her of the git that would later be born as his grandson in the near future, she didn't care. In fact, she delighted in the small things that made living this double life somewhat bearable, knowing she could get under a Malfoy's skin just as easily as he'd gotten under hers.

"Fine," he muttered out politely.

Of course, the inner circle of the Dark Lord couldn't quite make their disgust obvious and so (she was sure on Tom's orders) they were to play nice until otherwise notified.

Which didn't seem to be anytime soon as Tom started talking with her just as happy and enthusiastically as the first day she'd come here.

"I've heard you were invited to be in Professor Slughorn's club."

"The Slug Club," Avery snickered.

"That's hardly appropriate behavior," Tom admonished though Hermione saw amusement in his eyes. "I'm in that club myself, though I suppose it's nothing to brag about."

Hermione rose an eyebrow as she scooped some pork chops onto her plate. "What do you mean?"

Dolohov grunted. "Everyone knows Slughorn uses that club as an excuse to reap the benefits of students who are bound to be successful in the future."

"So he's using them," she stated, unimpressed. "If everybody knows that then why do people still regard it so highly?"

"Because of what it stands for," Tom said simply. "If you're in this club, then to everybody it's as good as a stamp of guaranteed success. And who wouldn't want that? Especially when the future is so uncertain and ever-changing. Will you pass the potatoes?"

Hermione did so absentmindedly. If Tom was in the Slug Club then she would have to accept Slughorn's invitation after all. She wasn't looking forward to it. The first time she'd joined hadn't been a very mindful experience but it was something that couldn't be helped.

"So you grew up in an orphanage," Tom said. "I'll assume Muggle?"

Hermione was thrown by the question (though not terribly surprised). What she _was_ surprised at was the barest hint of distaste that she was sure she would've missed had she not been paying so close attention. "I- well- I- yes," she stumbled then clearing her throat she repeated, "Yes. A Muggle orphanage."

"Which one?"

"Why so curious?"

Malfoy tensed and she noticed an angered frown on his face as if he wondered how she dared to question Tom when he so clearly wanted an answer. She ignored him, taking in the furrow of Tom's brow as he mulled over an answer. "Isn't this what friends do?"

Yes. It was true. Friends did make an effort to find out more about the other however, therein lay the problem. She didn't _want_ to be friends with him and she was confident that Tom had no interest in being friends with her.

Both of them (though Tom was unaware of it) were more like enemies who, on the pretense of being friends, was trying to study and extract their secrets. The way his eyes seemed to catalog every detail - every _action_ \- of hers, the way his words always seemed to hold a deeper meaning to which she could never uncover, the way he put her on edge simply for the fact that she knew exactly what he was made her wary. So much so that she was afraid it was made known to him in the littlest of ways that she couldn't help at all.

She was, really, a terrible actress.

"You have to give to get," Hermione teased. "Where are you from?"

"I was born in Paris but grew up in Britain," he replied easily and for a moment, she was stunned into silence. He lied. And what's more, if she hadn't known everything there was to know about him, she would've believed it too.

"Maybe you would've gone to Beauxbatons if you hadn't moved," she said once she hastily composed herself.

Tom smiled pleasingly. "I think green is more my color."

"Is it your favorite?"

"Isn't it my turn to ask a question?"

Hermione raised a brow in mock surprise. "I wasn't aware we were playing 20 Questions."

"What's 20 Questions?" Nott asked blandly.

Nobody answered him.

Tom kept his smile on his face but somehow, she couldn't help but think that it looked somewhat sinister. "I like games. I'm quite a formidable player."

"A formidable foe," she corrected without thinking and Tom let out a boisterous laugh.

"I suppose if you were an enemy that would be true."

Hermione smiled softly but didn't answer.

"So I gave and now I'd like to get," Tom said as he took a sip of pumpkin juice from his cup. "You grew up in an orphanage. I'm curious to know which one."

"Pass."

Tom looked amused. "Pass?"

"House rules," Hermione reminded.

"I don't recall allowing house rules," he hummed.

" _I'm_ allowing it."

"Then only one pass is allowed and you've just used it," he replied, looking awfully pleased with himself.

She scowled. "My turn. What do you plan on doing once you graduate?"

"It's getting late, Hermione." Tom stood up and that's when she noticed that they were one of the very few students left at the table. Their plates and goblets were gleaming and empty as if they hadn't been used at all and she wondered where the time had gone.

Hermione stood up slowly. "Does this mean you pass?"

Tom offered a hand and having no choice but to take it, she grabbed ahold and used his steady weight to decently climb over the bench. "No," he responded as she made to smooth out her skirt. "It just means I'll take my time answering. Come now, I'll escort you back to the common room and I'll have to begin my rounds around the school as Head Boy."

She couldn't help but think that it was the perfect cover to be up to no good.

* * *

A/N: Hello! I know it's been a long time and this chapter is fairly shorter than I would've liked but honestly, as much as I'd like to write and update my stories, I've been extremely busy. I have personal things going on that just doesn't allow the kind of time that I'd like to use to further these plots. I'm glad that this story is being received fairly well. I mean I've still been trying to read through the series (finishing up the fifth book now) to get a good grasp on the characters I'm writing about but I hope that I don't disappoint.

Thanks!

Until next time :)


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